Boss dear," she pleaded. "I'll be better
soon. These attacks don't mean anything."

"The gipsy predicted that you were going to have a fit of sickness, and
I believe it has come," said Aubrey, seriously. "Take her to bed
quickly, Katie. I don't want her to die in the kitchen."

The two old women stumbled up the back stairway together.

"Oh, Aubrey, what is it?" I whispered.

"It is the breaking up of Mary," said the Angel when we were alone.
"It has been going on for some time. Either jealousy, or old age, or
imagination, or incipient insanity has seized our poor old
servant-friend, and well-nigh wrecked her. I have tried various
remedies, but all have failed. I didn't want to bother you with it
before, but the fact is, Faith dear, Mary must go. She has outlived
her usefulness with us."

"I've been afraid of it for some time," I answered. "But it seems too
bad. She has been with us through some strenuous times, Aubrey."

"I know, dear, and I have no idea of turning the old creature adrift.
The last time I was in town I spoke to Doctor North and arranged to
send Mary to his sanatorium for a month."

"You are good, Aubrey."

Aubrey smoked in silence for a few moments.

"Yes, Mary has been with us through deep waters and hard fights, and
never has she flinched. Perhaps it is her nature. Perhaps she just
can't stand the lameness of prosperity."

In a day or two we sent Mary to Doctor North's sanatorium, a badly
scared and deeply repentant old woman, and Aubrey wired Doctor North:

"Is this a genuine case, or is she faking?"

The answer came back:

"Faking."

Poor Mary! She escaped from the sanatorium on the third day. But we
never saw her again, and though we often write to her and send her
things, she never answers.

I think it was the "Polean pitcher."

CHAPTER XIV

AND THEY LIVED HAPPY EVER AFTER

End of the story--end of the chapter--end of the book!

And what could be more satisfactory than the ending of the old
fairy-tales,--"and so they were married, and lived happy ever after"?
Not for them the strenuous adjustment of temper and temperament, of
extravagance and poverty, with the divorce court at the end of the
second year. In the blessed tales of one's childhood, they married and
lived happily.

Ay, and for ever after!

It is a long time,--but I look forward to it without fear, yea, even
with gladness. Not that I would so dare, did it depend upon _my_
temper, _my_ m